


Promises Imprinted by Hands

by anarchycox



Series: Witcher Bingo Card Prompts [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Feels, First Times, Love, M/M, Making Up, Past hurt, Post-Season/Series 01, Reunions, Sex, Slight Dom/Sub, happy ever after, history of bad sex for one character, learning about good sex, lots of comfort, post dragon mountain fight, slight BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24747952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are finally a couple and finally settled in enough at Kaer Morhen that all of Jaskier's attempts at seduction are finally paying off. But sex with Geralt is very different than what he was used to with men.He had always thought he had been having good sex.Geralt has very much changed his thoughts about that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Bingo Card Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746034
Comments: 137
Kudos: 1434
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	Promises Imprinted by Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Jaskier has a history of bad sex. It was never rape or assault, but it was all quick back alleys and what not. So he is used to spit as lube and fast slightly uncomfortable fucks, just to give everyone a heads up.
> 
> for my bingo card injury care

Jaskier generally would be freezing on a balcony at night in winter way up in the northern mountains, but there was a fire next to them, a fur on top of him, and a witcher under him. His nose was perhaps cold, but the rest of him was toasty warm. Geralt had his arms around him under the fur and was rubbing slow and soft circles on his stomach. They were staring up at the stars, splitting a bottle of wine and they hadn’t even bothered with glasses, just taking pulls right from the bottle. He was making up stupid stories about the stars and Geralt was correcting him, grumpy at the inaccuracies but Jaskier could hear the laughter under the growls.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked when he ran out of ways to argue that the stars existed because the sun and the moon fucked during eclipses.

“Hmm?” Geralt’s hand had slid under his shirt, and was so fucking warm on his skin. 

They had been moving towards this ever since they had run into each other, though it was hardly running into each other, so much as Geralt coming to Oxenfurt and kidnapping him away to be Ciri’s tutor. He had even apologized for what had happened the year before. Well, he hadn’t said I’m sorry for being a jackass last year, please forgive me, my life is meaningless without you, that Jaskier had maybe pictured when a wee bit intoxicated. Maybe he had even pictured crying. Instead Geralt had just walked into the lecture that Jaskier was giving, nodded and said “We leave in an hour. Please.” Then the bastard had walked right back out again. 

Jaskier should have probably had some dignity. 

But Geralt had said please. There were speeches and apologies, whole discourses in that please. So Jaskier had told his students they all passed and walked out of the university, knowing he’d never be welcomed back. He was fine with that. Jaskier had gone to the rooms he had rented and packed up as quickly as possible, grabbed some things to sell, his lute, and the good walking boots. He had headed out of town, and Geralt and a young woman were waiting at a crossroads. 

“Did he apologize? We practiced what he should say the whole ride here, because he wanted it to be perfect so that you would join him. Hello, I’m Ciri.”

“Your highness,” Jaskier had said with a bow. Geralt was pointedly not looking at Jaskier. Because the man clearly had not wanted to Jaskier to know that information. “It was an incredible apology. Even made a few of my students weep with how profound and heartfelt his words were.”

“Oh, you lie all pretty like, much better than Geralt’s lies,” Ciri had smiled at him. “Are you going to be my tutor, like Geralt said?”

Jaskier had nodded, “I do believe I am.” He had looked at Geralt. “Still no horse for me?”

“You hate riding. Can’t ride and play lute at the same time.”

“No, I can’t,” Jaskier had agreed, and they had set off meandering their way north until they had settled into Kaer Morhen. Vesemir had offered him the room next to Ciri’s, across the hall from Geralt’s but Geralt had just casually said they were used to sharing. There had been a great deal of smirks from the wolves, but Jaskier didn’t comment that they had never actually shared like that in all their years together.

Because on the way there, their bedrolls had moved closer and closer together, Geralt was touching him more, and he was still a silent and grumpy bastard, but in villages he would buy little things for Jaskier that showed he was paying attention, wanted the bard to be happy. And there had been the first kiss. Fuck it had been actual goddamn romance. Full moon, dead vampire at their feet, Geralt yelling at him about staying where Geralt had fucking put him. Usually the yelling would end with Geralt waving a hand about and cursing him, and instead this time, Jaskier was hauled in for a punishing kiss that had his lips tingling for hours. It had bit at him, ravaged, and he was pretty sure if Ciri hadn’t called after them, they would have fucked against the tree Geralt had pushed him into. 

The kiss had changed everything but they hadn’t yet fucked, and Jaskier had been trying to seduce the hell out of Geralt. He supposed though it would have been awkward when they were camping and sharing a room with Ciri. There were plenty of back alleys though, or walks in the woods, and he had certainly suggested that he was amenable to at the very least hand jobs against a back wall. Instead there were heated glances and bedrolls put together, and the promises of soon.

It had been a couple weeks of settling in for the winter, and Jaskier figured that tonight was the night that soon meant now.

“Were you just saying my name, or did you have a thought rattling around in your head?”

“Har har,” Jaskier replied. He put his hand over top Geralt’s and slid it down a bit more, until it rested over his cock. “Are you finally going to fuck me?” Maybe he should have tried for a little more subtlety. But it had been three months of subtle with the man not taking the bait, so he ground down a bit. “Geralt, just fuck me already.”

The hand he had pressed to the front of his trousers squeezed and then teeth nipped at his neck. “Fuck,” Jaskier cursed, head already swimming, because it was Geralt, a man he had wanted for more than half his life.

“I will,” Geralt whispered against his ear. Jaskier started to sit up, but was pulled back down hard against Geralt. “Where are you going, little fox?”

“The bed?” Jaskier suggested. He looked over to their massive bed that had even more furs on it. It was a great fucking bed, and now it could finally be a bed for fucking.

“No, here, where I can see the sky. Do you know how many nights I’ve stared at the sky and thought about everything I wanted to do to you?”

“I do not,” Jaskier managed to say.

“Neither do I, lost count. So stay put.” The last was a growl and it made Jaskier hard. He settled back in against Geralt and in a blink, teeth were nipping at his neck, lips pressing hard kisses against the skin. Jaskier squirmed loving the feel of it. He had known that Geralt would be a bit rough, and he loved that. The press of it, the sharpness, and since it wasn’t a back alley where anyone could stumble across them, they had the time to really indulge. Jaskier squirmed a bit more, tried to turn around. “I said stay put,” Geralt ordered and the teeth bit a little harder. 

“Hard to touch you like this,” Jaskier pointed out. “Just let me -”

“No,” Geralt demanded. “Stay put.” He tugged Jaskier’s head back and fuck that felt good. Jaskier had always had a bit of a thing for hair pulling. “I’ve heard you enough, you like it like this.”

“I do,” Jaskier whispered. “I really fucking do.”

“So, behave and let me have you like we both want.” There was one gentle kiss to his lips. “Please.”

That please had entire histories carried in that one word. Their history, their future. “I’ll stay put,” Jaskier promised, and settled in how he had been before.

“Good little fox,” Geralt praised and fine yes, it made Jaskier shiver. “Cold?” 

“No,” Jaskier said and tilted his head for more of those neck bites. Geralt was sucking hard bruises onto his neck and it felt so damn good. The fur was adjusted from where it had slid down and Jaskier sighed happily. The sigh changed to a rough groan, when Geralt’s hand slid into his pants and cupped his cock. Geralt, his wolf, had his hand on Jaskier’s cock. “Fuck, Geralt.”

“Soon enough,” Geralt promised, “We’ll make it last another time. Hours.”

“It doesn’t last hours,” Jaskier protested. He had fucked plenty of men and no encounter had lasted longer than 40 minutes, and even that was rare. 

“No, that is rather the problem with fucking married people, no time to explore. I’d play with you from the moment we went to bed until we saw dawn on the horizon.”

He had fucked enough single men to know that was bullshit, but his witcher was a romantic and he was willing to indulge that. Especially since Geralt was pushing Jaskier’s pants down on the under the fur. Jaskier lifted his ass up, so Geralt could pull them down, and when they were down at his knees, Jaskier kicked them off. 

“Spread your legs,” Geralt ordered and Jaskier let them fall open, so that they were on the outside of Geralt’s legs. He ground down, feeling Geralt hard underneath him. He felt long, thick and Jaskier squirmed more. “Eager?”

“Wanted you for fucking ever, Geralt.” There was another nip at his neck and Geralt’s hand began to properly stroke his cock and fuck that felt good. Really good, better than most actually. He wondered if it was the way they were, Jaskier on top like this, the motion pretty much the same as wanking. Geralt’s other hand slid under Jaskier’s shirt and twisted a nipple, and Jaskier saw stars. “Fuck,” his voice was already hoarse.

“Too much?”

“Nu-uh,” he managed to reply. “Just new.” Geralt’s hands stopped moving on him for a moment and he didn’t like that. “More,” he demanded. “Everything?”

“It is yours,” Geralt promised. He kept playing with Jaskier’s nipple as he stroked his cock, and Jaskier was losing his mind. He had never had this much foreplay before, every encounter hurried, and this was Geralt saying they wouldn’t care about going slow this time. Maybe he had been serious about going until dawn. “You feel so good, little fox, I want to eat you up.”

“What big teeth you have,” Jaskier joked from the old kitchen story. 

“I can fuck you right?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Jaskier promised. He liked full sex, mostly. It was always uncomfortable and even painful until the orgasm hit and then it was always worth it, and he adored that closeness to his partner, that connection. He’d love it even more since it was Geralt, and besides no matter how rough Geralt was, they had baths here and healing salves from when the men trained. He’d be able to take care of himself after easily. It was all perfect and he couldn’t wait to feel Geralt inside him.

He was confused though when he heard a bottle stopper, and not Geralt spitting on his fingers. Then a cool and slick finger pressed at his hole, not pushing in, just pressing. It took him a moment because he had only had the benefit of it a few times in noble houses, but Geralt had slicked his finger with oil. Jaskier spread his legs more. “Taking care of me?”

“Used to it, you are helpless.”

“Am not,” Jaskier protested. He tilted his head just enough to nip at Geralt’s jaw. “I have teeth.”

“I am aware,” Geralt said and gave a low laugh that made Jaskier shiver and as he shivered, Geralt’s finger pressed in and any thought of a clever response flew out of Jaskier’s mind. Geralt was in him. “You like fingering, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” Jaskier said. “I mean fine without it in a rush, but not too much of a rush right?” Jaskier was well used to going without it at all, but always had a warm spot for the men who always warmed him up with a finger, a few times even two, that had been great. 

“Good,” Geralt said and his finger pressed slowly in and out and it felt good. Fuck, it felt really good. And Geralt began to stroke Jaskier’s cock again, and fuck the two together was almost overwhelming. He didn’t want Geralt to stop but if he didn’t, it would be all over too soon. 

“Just the finger right now,” Jaskier said. “Or I’ll be done.”

“Hmm, that sounds interesting.”

“Please?” Jaskier asked, as he hoped Geralt could hear all the words, the cathedrals and cities built into that one word. He slumped against Geralt as Geralt’s hand left his cock. He immediately missed the hand and whined a bit.

“I have you, little fox, just feel,” Geralt told him. 

“And stay put.”

Geralt laughed again. “And stay put.”

Jaskier felt his finger pull out and lift his ass for Geralt to undo his pants, but a pinch at his thigh had him dropping back down. “Staying put,” he swore. He got a bite to his ear at the sass and he rather liked that. He couldn’t stay put though when two slick fingers pressed into him, “Fuck, Geralt, fucking hell.”

“Long time, hmm?”

“Not that long, few months.” There had been a fellow bard in a tavern, in between sets, it had been good. This was better. Two fingers was such a treat. It’d be a minute of that and then he’d finally be riding Geralt’s cock. He had decades of dreams and he didn’t think the experience would let him down. When those long, broken, callused fingers pressed that spot inside him, Jaskier couldn’t even curse or pray, he just pressed against Geralt as much as he could, and fuck even better than the fingers inside him was the way, Geralt pressed his other hand over Jaskier’s heart. He twisted his head so he could press his nose to Geralt’s neck. Breathed in that odd scent that clung to Geralt. Metal, and ash, and if promise could smell like a thing it would smell like Geralt. They weren’t happy promises necessarily, but Jaskier didn’t want happy, he wanted - he needed - satisfaction, which he had only ever found in Geralt’s shadow. “More,” he begged. He didn’t care how needy he sounded, or whatever crass thing Geralt would say, because that was just a part of all this. 

But Geralt didn’t say anything at all, just kept pressing those fingers in and out, stroking the inside of him, stretching, pressing against that spot. “If you don’t get in me -” Jaskier started to say.

“I am in you.” Geralt replied and his fingers pulled out. “And now I am not.” But again Geralt wasn’t trying to pull his pants open, instead three fingers pressed into Jaskier, and fuck he was seeing the stars even with his eyes closed against Geralt’s skin. “And back in you.” He was a tease, Jaskier would have never expected that. It felt so good, it had never felt like this before. Hell, usually it was done by now, and he was cleaning up to go inside to sing more. Geralt just kept moving his fingers in him though. “Hours, next time, hours of this, see if you come just from my fingers.”

“Really close to that now,” Jaskier whispered. 

“But you won’t, because you want to come our fist time on my cock.” 

Jaskier could only nod against him. It felt like the fingering was going to last forever and his cock was leaking even though it hadn’t been touched in what hours, weeks, this had been going on for months hadn’t it, Geralt touching him like this. Then those fingers pulled out and Geralt was nudging him up. He lifted up a bit, and could hear the rustle of fabric and a bit of a squelch sound that was confused at first until he realized that Geralt was adding more of that oil to his cock. He didn’t miss the sound of a man spitting into his hand, he had to admit. 

Geralt adjusted them both, upright just a bit more, and then Jaskier felt the press of Geralt’s cock against his hole. Over the years of shared baths, rivers, rooms, he had seen Geralt naked plenty, and knew he had a fair sized cock, and it turned out it was a grower as well, and that was definitely the thickest head that had pressed against him. With the fingering and oil though, it was the easiest press in that Jaskier had ever felt. It was intense but didn’t hurt at all.

Was sex supposed to be painless with men? That was a thought to ponder later, because he was slowly sinking down that perfect length, perfect because it was a great dick, perfect because it was Geralt a man he felt so much for that he couldn’t even name it - and he could name everything. When he was all the way down, Jaskier couldn’t stop the noise of want, of need that rolled out from his throat.

“Fuck, little fox, if I had know how perfect you were in bed, I would have done this decades ago.”

“Make it up to me right now.” 

Geralt didn’t say another word, just moved their bodies together, that one hand on Jaskier’s heart, the other his hip, steadying him. Jaskier lifted himself up and down a bit, and Geralt was rocking his hips. Jaskier had never fucked a man in this position before and it was a bit awkward and rather amazing. They were quiet except breath that grew harsher, and Jaskier’s cock hurt, ached for touch, and he began to stroke himself. He stopped when Geralt growled and teeth sank into his shoulder hard. He didn’t think it broke skin, but there would be indentations for a few days.

“Please,” Jaskier whimpered and was rewarded with the hand that had been on his heart moving to his cock. Later he’d care that it was barely a few strokes before he crashed headlong into his orgasm. Those teeth sank again into his shoulder and Geralt moved Jaskier on his cock until he was coming as well. After a moment, Geralt eased back on the chaise they had been lounging on, and Jaskier collapsed against him. “I have had a lot of good sex, and you were better than them all,” Jaskier said.

“I know,” Geralt replied, smug as anything. “Heard you plenty when you fucked, you never sounded this happily wrecked.” He wrapped his arms around Jaskier and they sat there, stared up at the stars together. “We need to fix you up, to bed with you.”

Jaskier was a bit confused, but maybe that was code? “I’d love to fuck again, but that was a lot maybe in the morning.”

“No, I know, it was a bit rough.”

Fuck maybe Geralt was worried it had been too rough. “Not too rough,” Jaskier said quickly. “I liked it all. I just am rather worn out.”

“I know you liked it, little fox.” Geralt sat up and never letting go of Jaskier had them both upright, the fur still covering Jaskier. He put Jaskier on the bed and stripped off his clothes. “Off with the shirt.” Jaskier stripped it off and shivered a bit, went to slide under the covers. “Not until I take care of you.”

“Pretty sure you already did?” Jaskier was utterly lost. “Geralt?”

Geralt came over with a bowl of water, warmed by igni, and a cloth. Oh he was going to clean him up a bit. Jaskier would have taken care of that after a cuddle, but that was sweet; Geralt was really going above and beyond this first time. It was magical and romantic, and Jaskier was going to write a song that he never would sing except for in his own mind. He let Geralt clean him up, and figured all done but then Geralt rolled him gently onto his stomach and nudged his legs apart. “Later,” he promised.

“You said it had been a few months,” Geralt replied, “just checking you aren’t hurt.” He heard a jar open and something cooling and lovely was gently rubbed on his hole. More was rubbed on the bite marks on his neck, gentle kisses before the salve was rubbed in. “There you go, little fox. In you get.” 

“What the fuck was that?” Jaskier asked as he crawled between sheets and furs. “Geralt, seriously what the fuck?” He was then pulled in, for a hug? It took him a moment to realize that he was being cuddled. He would have asked what the fuck again, but Geralt started whispering words of praise and love and wonder that Jaskier was finally his and it was making him feel confused and warm, and he knew that he’d never hear these words outside a moment like this and wanted to relish each word, imprint every single one on his heart, but the good sex and this fondness had him falling asleep.

The next few weeks were a revelation and a wonder. And he was entirely lost. They didn’t have rough sex every time, sometimes it was slow and romantic and Geralt had kept that promise of until dawn one time and Lambert had teased when Jaskier finally rolled out of bed after lunch, and Jaskier had not cared. And sometimes it was rough, and Geralt bit him, and held him in place, and there were bruises and cuts and all of it, any way it went, felt good.

Geralt used oil every time. Even when they had done in the storage room, by the courtyard, Eskel and Lambert training, when they had to be fast and hard, there was still oil and two fingers. Jaskier was pretty sure he had to say something to Geralt. Because he didn’t have to be this considerate all the time, Jaskier was fine with how sex usually was. The honeymoon period would end eventually and he didn’t want to get too used to all this indulging.

They were in bed, and he was naked, Geralt dressed, and Geralt was massaging his feet, painting his toenails with something, Jaskier wasn’t going to ask what, because it looked great. “Geralt?”

“Hmm,” Geralt was focused like it was a hunt and the brush looked so tiny in his hands. 

“About sex?”

Geralt briefly looked up and smiled, “Something you want to try? I’m all ears.”

“Oh well, I am sure there is,” Jaskier thought about it. “Umm, be sort of interesting to fuck you at some point.”

“I’d say that would be very interesting.”

“Actually, not done that before,” Jaskier had to admit.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to figure it out,” Geralt teased, and moved to the other foot. “Melitele reminds me, need to restock our oil. Luckily Lambert always has tons, I’ll steal some from him.”

And that was the perfect opener. “I mean, don’t need it every time, we can stretch what we have.”

“I know when we are focused on cock sucking we don’t need it, but I like to fuck your ass - a lot, Jaskier. One of the few times you shut up.”

“Ha ha,” Jaskier would have kicked his face but he didn’t want to mess with the pretty paint on his toes. “I just mean, you’ve been overly cautious. You know spit is just fine, we’re fine going about it like normal.”

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?” he was sure Geralt would be relieved that he could stop with all the romance stuff.

“I’m going to finish painting your toes, because they look great. Then while they are drying I am going downstairs to kill a few practice dummies, and then when I come back up, we’re going to have a little talk.”

“Sure?” Jaskier was confused, but didn’t press, because Geralt hadn’t sounded angry. He let Geralt finish painting his toes, and then the man kissed his ankle and stormed out of the room. He didn’t slam the door, mainly out of concern it would wake Ciri, Jaskier bet. He lay on the bed, thoroughly confused and wondered if Geralt was mad at him. But if he was, he wouldn’t have finished painting Jaskier’s toes.

Jaskier hummed to himself and moved his feet about, looking at how the paint shone in the fire light. Geralt was back after not too long, and he did look furious. Jaskier sat up a bit. “What’s wrong?”

“Spit is not normal,” Geralt growled. “Oil, is normal.”

“You are only the third man I’ve been with to use oil,” Jaskier commented. “Three, no maybe about five, out of what thirty or so? Suggests you are the abnormal one.”

“And I’ll be back in a bit. More killing,” Geralt said and stormed back out. When he came back there was straw in his hair. “Are you telling me, that on average for the whole of your fucking everyone you met, you’ve been having bad sex?”

“What no,” Jaskier was appalled. “I’m great in bed.”

“Yes, you are,” Geralt immediately agreed. “Giving, and loving, and the most responsive body I’ve ever had under my hands. But you seem to be telling me, that no one else has cared for you, made it good for you?”

“No, Geralt, what are you thinking?” Jaskier wondered how it all got wrong in Geralt’s head. “My witcher, I’ve had lots of great sex, it just you know, you don’t have to keep doing all this show, to what make up for our lost time, for how we fought? I just want us to have normal sex? Be as normal a couple as a bard and a 100 year old witcher can be?” He tried to tease, but Geralt looked really upset. “Geralt?”

Geralt came and sat on him, and Jaskier’s hands automatically went to his hips. Geralt was cupping his face and a gentle kiss was pressed to his head. “Jaskier, we have been having normal sex. This is how it should be. It shouldn’t hurt except in the fun ways. And then I fix whatever fun hurt I caused.”

“Is that what that is?”

“What?”

“Is that why you do all those checks and salves and kisses after? Say those nice words? I’ve been wondering about that.”

“Back in a moment, little more killing required.” Geralt stalked out of the room, yet again. Jaskier got up and poured himself a glass of wine. Trying to put all the pieces together. Geralt seemed to think Jaskier had been having bad or wrong sex. Geralt was the oddity in his sexual experience.

But Geralt also felt so much better than all his previous experience. He had just assumed that was the whole loving Geralt for the rest of his life, versus the love them for an hour, for a night thing. Geralt stormed back in the room, and it was the most frazzled Jaskier had ever seen him. “You are never allowed to fuck anyone else,” Geralt said. “I’m going to have a hard enough time tracking down and killing everyone who didn’t treat you right, we aren’t adding to the list.”

“You want to kill what around thirty men, because it turns out I’ve been maybe having bad sex.”

“Yes,” Geralt said firmly. “I knew you were having quick fucks, and I assumed with the amount you were having, you were taking care of yourself, they were taking care of you. You don’t even know what aftercare is! What the fuck, Jaskier?”

“Is that what you do? Aftercare?” Geralt was clearly about to head out and kill more practice dummies. Gods, the mess there would be to clean in the morning. Jaskier stepped in front of him. “No,” Jaskier said. “You mean to tell me, even when we are back on the road, sex will still be like this?”

“How else would it be?” Geralt seemed confused. “How would I treat you with anything less than as much care as I could?”

“I don’t know,” Jaskier realized. “I don’t suppose you could, could you?” He kissed Geralt. “So, this is how it is supposed to be?”

“Yes,” Geralt growled. “And I’m going to find them all and kill them, for hurting you.”

“Geralt, it wasn’t bad, I just seem to be learning it wasn’t good.”

“You deserve good, the best.”

“And I now have it, don’t I?” Jaskier pointed out. “Think of it this way, the time it would take to hunt down all those men, you could spend that time fucking me. Making me forget all the mediocre sex that came before you.” He wrapped his arms around Geralt. “For example, right now, you could again show me this whole aftercare thing? Just to make sure I understand properly how it works. I believe you mentioned tying me up?”

Hours later he was untied, and Geralt rubbed that healing salve into his skin, and kissed him, gave him those words of praise, promised that he’d always take care of Jaskier, how good it would always feel, and that Jaskier would forget anything that had come before them. That he’d never have bad sex again.

Jaskier figured that couldn’t be quite true, because he knew what their camp grounds were like when water hadn’t been available for a week, or the beds with bugs in them in crappy inns. But Geralt was whispering those promises against his skin. And they were perfect words.

“Only good sex for my little fox, promise me. Please,” Geralt said.

There were myths, and legends, and happy ever afters in that one word.

“Only good sex,” Jaskier agreed. And he believed every single word that Geralt whispered against his skin.


End file.
